


God of Lies

by Sabulum



Series: The Prompt Fic of Mischief [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Mid-Canon, Mildly OOC, Mind Control, but mostly Gen, kinda M/M if you squint, okay maybe a lot OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:59:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabulum/pseuds/Sabulum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the only time that Clint will ever see him break down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	God of Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Done for a prompt at Norsekink, and my first EVER piece of Avengers fanfiction. The ficlet that started the Prompt Fic of Mischief!
> 
>  **Title:** God of Lies  
>  **Genre:** Hurt/Comfort  
>  **Rating:** T (some dark themes)  
>  **Timeline:** Mid-Avengers.  
>  **Characters:** Loki and Clint. Possible Loki/Clint if you tilt your head.  
>  **Warnings:** Un-beta-ed. Minor Avengers spoilers. Very badly written angst.  
>  **Prompt:** _“That awkward moment when you’re a brainwashed minion and your affection-starved evil master keeps wanting to cuddle.”_

The Trickster God’s eyes are strangely haunted, filled with a bone-deep sadness. Clint expects tears to well up at any moment, and an echoing surge of emotion sears through him at the sight.

Some part of Clint is aware that this is all fabricated. That tiny, unchained piece of him in the far back corner of his mind—that part is aware, and knows that it’s being manipulated. It knows that the staff’s magic has seeped into him, his brain and body, and is conjuring up these emotions via complex neurochemical reactions. That part of him is more than a little pissed off.

But the vast majority of Clint is, quite simply, unable to care.

As if Loki were his oldest and dearest friend, the sight of those lost eyes brings emotions bubbling up into his chest unbidden.

Never would the Avengers see Loki so defeated. Somehow, Clint knows this to be true. Loki is far too proud to have anyone witness him in such a state, even were he to lose. Even if he were left fallen and humiliated, his desperate plans crashing around his ears like all the rest of his dreams—even if he were to fail, _again_ , as Loki knows must inevitably happen, for doesn’t it always?—even _then_ he would never see himself reduced to such patheticness as this.

And Clint knows the root of that fragile pride, just as surely as he knows his own name. Just as surely as he knows Loki’s fears, and rage, and jealousy, and his hatred of the blue skin lurking just beneath that careful illusion.

No… the sight of Loki like this—with his head buried in his hands, gripping frantically at his hair as he fights with his emotions—this is not a sight that Loki would ever allow anyone to see.

But here with Clint—with Clint, who is _mind-controlled_ into loving him, and isn’t that sad?—here with Clint, Loki is free to be weak. Free to break down, and to cry, as he finally does now when he can contain it no longer. Because Clint _has_ to care, and Loki _cannot_ be rejected again—not here, not by Clint. Not so long as the magic keeps hold.

And even in that far-back corner of Clint’s mind, he can’t help but to feel kinda sorry for the guy.

For once, Clint’s mind is in perfect agreement with itself as he steps closer, weaving warm arms around Loki’s shoulders. The god goes completely still. “Shh,” Clint whispers. “C’mere. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

And after a moment, Loki relaxes—and then he leans desperately into the touch, wanting. And magic or no, by God, Clint means every word he says.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now.”


End file.
